


Immobulus

by brutalism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/F, No Plot/Plotless, Tumblr: otpprompts, don't judge me okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutalism/pseuds/brutalism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny Weasley, world famous Quidditch player, is afraid of bees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immobulus

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is just a drabble/flash fic I wrote as a daily writing exercise.

\---

 

Hermione was jolted out of her novel by two strong hands gripping her face. She squeaked in alarm, her arms going in opposite directions, the novel in her left hand distancing itself from the mug of tea in her right - which, she had only a second to note, had missed the book but managed to slop tea all over the table.

The hands rotated her face to stare directly into the brown eyes of her captor, Ginny Weasley.

“Hermione,” said Ginny, “there is a bee in the house.” She was pressing her lips together so firmly, Hermione noticed, that they were beginning to turn white.  

“Ginny.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione?” Ginny’s hands were still framing Hermione’s field of vision, like bookends.

“You interrupted my novel,” here Hermione began peeling Ginny off, finger by finger, “because there is a bee in our house. A solitary bee. Not a whole hive of them,” she clarified, “but a single bee.”

Ginny took a step back. She glanced down at her hands, now held gently in Hermione’s lap, and then out the window. “I hate bees,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, suppressing the urge to laugh. The last time she had laughed at one of Ginny’s seemingly trivial fears, her breakfast had been burned for a week, despite all the calibration charms she had applied to the oven. Ginny was so like her brother Ron in that way, Hermione mused. But she had the benefit of looking much finer in the color green, as she did now, dressed in the full emerald of her Holyhead Harpy robes.

A flurry of movement and Ginny had her hands back, and was tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. “Well, are you going to help? If you don’t, I’ll be late for practice.”

Pushing the chair back with a loud scrape, Hermione set her things down on the table and rose. “Of course.” Kissing Ginny once on the temple, she turned back only briefly to flick her wand, missing her lover’s abashed frown and wrinkled nose. A bookmark materialized and the novel snapped shut, while the tea evaporated into thin air.

“So where is it?” 

Ginny glanced around the kitchen with a disturbed cast to her eyes, as if she expected the bee to swoop down on them at any moment. When she failed to see the bee bumbling around the pot rack or in the corner of the window, she sighed softly. “Er, I don’t know. It was near the entrance when I saw it last.”  

Hermione nodded and swept from the kitchen, down the narrow hallway and past the creaky staircase, towards the narrow archway that served as the primary entrance. A soft rustling noise undoubtedly meant Ginny was following a few steps behind. As she passed the stairs she could see out of the corner of her eye several parcels and strange lumpy things beginning to collect there, one pile tall enough to reach the handrail.

“I’m getting to that,” Ginny said, unable to suppress a slight placating note to her voice, “I’ll take care of them once I get back.”

“You really should invest in something like a post box,” Hermione said over her shoulder, “we just can’t keep receiving all your fan mail here. The owls have begun dropping larger packages down the chimney.”

“Get a what?”

Hermione faced the front door, eyes searching for the tiny intruder. Morning light filtered softly through the lavender stained glass in the doorway.

“There it is!” Ginny, resting against her protector’s back, pointed one finger over Hermione’s shoulder. An especially fat bee was repeatedly bumping its head in a corner right above the door, unable to understand what function a ceiling could serve.

“Oh, a bumblebee. Those really can’t hurt you at all, you know. Stinging is fatal for them, so if you just let them alone you’ll be fine. I’ve read that they are endangered across the contiguous -“

“Hermione, please,” Ginny said in a voice that sounded torn between exasperation and fearful supplication, “could you please -”

“Yes, yes, Ginevra.” Hermione pushed up her sleeve, and swept her wand through the air. “ _Immobulus_.” In the next moment, she was dashing forward with her hands cupped as the bee plummeted. It landed in her palms without a sound.

Ginny crept forward and peered at the frozen bee. With their heads together, they looked like two children with a secret.

“See?” Nothing to be afraid of here.”  Hermione whispered, as if they were in danger of waking it.

“Let’s take it outside, then,” Ginny said, leaning forward and twisting the door knob. A gust of fresh air tickled their faces and knocked the bee onto its side. With a quick wand tap, the bee unfroze and righted itself. In another moment, it was up and out the door.

The women both blinked, the spell of the bee broken. Ginny smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, ‘mione. You’re the best.”

Hermione laughed, and before she could say anything further, Ginny had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a surprisingly amorous kiss.   
  
When they broke apart, Ginny smiled into Hermione’s puffy cloud of dark hair and muttered, “That’s for calling me Ginevra.” Hermione blushed and attempted a playful swat at Ginny’s bottom in response.   
  
“Get _out_ already.”

Ginny wriggled out of Hermione’s grasp and bustled around summoning her gloves and grabbing her broom and goggles from beside the door. She bounded out the house and a few steps down the walkway before turning around one last time.

“I love you, Hermione Granger.”

And then, throwing one leg over her broom, she was up into the air and gone.

  
\---

 


End file.
